Morrow Days at Boot Camp
by Ancient and Forever
Summary: Sir Thursday mentioned that the Morrow Days did military service? Sounds like fun... Oneshot - unless it proves really popular :


"Right" grimaced the Denizen, "this should be....fun...."

A universal turning of heads accompanied the entry of Sir Thursday to the barracks.

"Right then you horrible lot!" roared Thursday "shut up and listen! As you know you have been drafted into the glorious army of the architect to complete One Hundred years of military service. Now much though I hate to admit it you are a rather special group of recruits, and as such, I shall have to set a few extra rules to help govern your behaviour here.

Firstly: no keys, and yes Saturday that means you too, so get that quill out your sleeve this instant. They will be transported back to your demesnes, you are free to send instructions with them should you wish. This leads very well into my next point. All recruits are equal within the army, there is to be no discrimination, bullying or forcing other recruits into doing tasks for you by any means; sorcery included.

Third – you will obey all orders given to you by a superior officer instantly and without question. Do you understand that Sunday?"

The tallest denizen glanced briefly towards Sir Thursday and then looked away again...

"I said 'Do you understand that _Private_ Sunday?!?'"

The look that Lord Sunday shot towards Sir Thursday contained enough insolence to get a judge dismissed for contempt of his own court.

"I said" screamed Thursday, brandishing the Fourth Key "Do you understand me Private Sunday?"

A small nod was the all the acknowledgement that Thursday got, even with the power of the Fourth Key. Sensibly Thursday followed the second rule of warfare 'Don't reinforce failure' and carried on...

"There will be no talking after lights out, no returning to your own demesnes or any leaving Fort Transformation without... MONDAY!!!! Are you even listening?"

A snore answered that question quite conclusively.

"DISMISSED!!!"

Sometime later Thursday was sitting at his desk dealing with yet another incompetent fool who wanted to suggest new ideas for tectonic strategy. Having barely restrained himself from decapitating the fool Thursday contented himself with hurling the Corporal from his office window – a fall of some two hundred floors; but straight into the moat so the Denizen should survive...should... and anyway, if he didn't then the loss of another amateur tactician was of no consequence.

"Excuse me Sir." Accompanied a diffident tap on the door "The new unit has been assigned to block D and they need a Drill Sergeant"

Thursday's eyes lit up "We shall give them... we shall give them Sergeant Lynch."

Outside the door, the sentries shuddered at a name reviled by all Graduates of Fort Transformation.

"But would it be enough?" pondered Thursday "would it be enough?"

WEDNESDAY

Why in the name of the Mariner am I here? Yes of course it's _'Military Service'_, but why me when there's so much to do back home.... Home, quite frankly I miss it, the rolling seas, cool air and flying spray. Whereas this Architect forsaken place is hot, dry and desolate just sand everywhere you look. I want to go home...

Saturday's been really supportive though. I don't know what I'd be doing without her. She's been so kind and helped me out with the whole packing thing. We have to have all our kit set out ship-shape - a sentiment I approve of. All the sailors do it back home, but it's so different to how we do it. Shirts go under Jackets, all buttons have to be squared and seamed. I just can't get it right. Sunday, of course, just chucks his kit onto the bunk and it seems to just fold itself. I know it can't (magic being disallowed – damn Thursday) but still it's irritating. Saturday gets it worst, she's quite competitive and the way Sunday finds it all so effortless really annoys her. I think she might do something rash if this carries on...

Weapons' training isn't so bad; I'm already well acquainted with muskets and a cutlass. These 'clockwork polearms' are rather difficult though. Tuesday is remarkably good at all this weapons training though. I didn't think he'd have a clue, I mean he's barely been outside his workshop for years – must have sneaked in a fair bit of practice. Friday's still the airheaded bimbo I remember, can't stay on the same topic for more than five minutes and all this strange obsession with _'emotions'_. I mean, if we were supposed to go woozy over blood and start petting the first Pipers child we came across then surely the Architect would have made sure we did. Scavenging all these left over feelings from the secondary realms! It's extremely demeaning.

I hope Dawn is coping back at the Border Sea, it's been encroaching some much recently, and all sorts of riff-raff keep breaking through the line of storms. It all started after that last meeting of the Court... did we really do the right thing I wonder?

Goodnight Diary, only 36524 days to go.

Friday

This is soooo awesome! You know, I never thought I'd be pleased to get a letter from Thursday but this 'military service' lark is great. I get to see people I haven't seen for years, try and experience some of these new emotions – friendship etc – and best of all, catch up on all the gossip!!! Seeing Wednesday again is great, she always has good stories and those memories I got from one of her sailors... exquisite; all the danger and excitement! Better than anything I've taken from the rest of those pathetic mortals.

Haven't seen Saturday in millennia – she hasn't changed a bit, still the uptight little bitch she was before the Architect left, obsessed with rules and regulations. It was really satisfying to see her face in that signals lesson today. I mean it really wasn't that difficult – 647 flag combinations? You'd think the 'Superior Sorcerer of the House' would be able to memorise that without difficulty. I mean myself and Sunday could; that really annoyed her, you see Sunday's been beating her at everything and with Sat's ego that's gonna hurt.

Sunny's the same as I remember him, aloof and boring. Still doesn't speak much – to anyone, although he and old Grim seem to get on pretty well. They both seem to be really good with weapons, Wednesday isn't bad either but I gotta admit I ain't much use with all the 'scary swords, light-bulb charging tulwars or no-powder muskets'. I leave that all to Dawn, he's warlike already and I don't want to get distracted every time some stupid Nithling killing an engraver or two, it's not like they're not two to a penny anyway. I love the uniforms though, these tight jackets look really good on me and I always fancied myself in breeches, and all those lovely buttons – so shiny...

...anyway...I think I'm developing a bit of a bond with Monday. Everyone hates him because he's really incompetent, almost blew his own hand off because he put a finger down the barrel of his musket! I mean come on!!! But despite that he is, once you get to know him a bit, a rather nice guy – and he's got all sorts of smut about some of the others up his sleeve. Thursday's been doing things to make your eyes spin! There's definitely a...*_damn, what was the word?_*... friendship growing between me and Monday – a kind of mutual trust. Kinda nice to experience all these feelings I've had second hand. Makes me feel really happy .

Having said that I think it annoys old Grim. He just walks around in his own dream-world the whole time – I gave him a polite greeting and he practically snapped at me. Obviously being locked up in a glass pyramid for a thousand years hasn't improved his temper and no wonder, glass is so tacky – I'd go mad if my entire stronghold was glass. I mean that is so seven-hundred years ago...

Anyway, need to go. I can hear that nice Sergeant Matchlock yelling at Monday

Most affectionately yours

Friday.

SATURDAY

What a humiliating day this has become. After yesterday, I believed I had truly fallen as far as was possible - stripped of my rank, my power and my key, and bound to serve as Thursday's minion for an entire century. My only comfort is that I am not alone. Sunday, too, has been similarly removed from his demesne, as have all the rest of the trustees. Of all the times Thursday could have chosen, this is perhaps the most unfortunate. Today was supposed to have marked the beginning of a new era- my plans for overthrowing Sunday were due to commence this afternoon. I suppose I shall have to order my Noon to begin construction without me - we cannot allow this time to go to waste.

The other trustees are as pathetic as I remember them. Monday in particular has proved to be astonishingly useless in every subject- surely remembering simple information is not too difficult for one as high-ranking as he? Wednesday seems to be suffering more than most, as the climate here does not exactly endear itself to one so used to the sea. Unusually for a denizen, she appears to suffer from homesickness. During the brief period of respite we have been allowed, she began to sob inconsolably, until eventually I grew weary of hearing her cry and began to comfort her. After all, if one of us is miserable, it may eventually begin to affect me - I cannot afford to lose my concentration now. If I cannot be at home preparing to overthrow Sunday, I can concentrate on surpassing him in basic training and eventually I shall outrank him. Perhaps then he shall know what he is in for, when finally I am allowed to return to my domain and lead the fight against him. For now, I shall enjoy the competition. While he appears to be near-perfect in every subject (For all I know, the architect probably taught him everything in advance) I have no difficulty believing that he shall eventually fall behind. After all: a recruit, no matter how perfect, cannot be allowed to advance in rank until he is fully obedient- a quality in which Sunday is severely lacking.

I look forward to tomorrow's lessons. I believe that I did well today, and there is no doubt that bar Sunday there is little competition. Compared to Monday, even the weakest of us is strong- he is, thus far, the only denizen to have been wounded during the first day of training in the history of the army. If nothing else, he provides some amusement. For that I must be grateful. This is going to be a very long century…

Your superior, Saturday

Sunday

What a drag; though understandable of course. It is within his rights to draft us for military service 'for the glory of the architect' and so forth but quite frankly drafting all of us at the same time just stinks of pettiness and spite.

Thursday has always had a rather wide mean streak which I suppose Mother thought would be useful in a soldier. Will not admit defeat etc, but it is really tiring when you actually have to deal with it. I won't deny that he is good at his job, but in my own 'humble' opinion Sir Thursday should never be allowed outside the Great Maze.

The petty machinations and politics of the Court of Days dog me even here. Monday remains incompetent at every possible activity. He cannot load a musket, wield a sword or even to stand to attention properly. Mother was obviously somewhat distracted at the time of his creation and this has been reflected in his own, unfortunate, personality.

Wednesday and Friday are also unchanged. Wednesday has proved herself surprisingly good with weapons, although not equal to myself or, as a matter of fact, Tuesday. Friday remains the air-headed bimbo we all know and despise. She has been affected quite badly since we broke Mothers Will. She has become obsessed with emotion and sensation, lusting after new experiences. Her memory, the one admirable facet of her character, has remained intact. She was the only one (apart from myself) who could keep up with that sad boor Sergeant Matchlock as he nattered on about distress signals, semaphore call signs, correct arrangement of signals etc etc etc.

Those sergeants are the epitome of insolence and ignorance. They seem to insist that I the ruler of all Creation must submit to their petty disciplinary codes. Every denizen I have met at this squalid little place, the so-called 'Fort Transformation' insists on being referred to as 'Sir' and expects instant obedience for the most irrelevant and demeaning of orders. I have been reprimanded repeatedly for 'insolence' and 'disobedience', but any pathetic denizen who attempts to order me around should count himself lucky to have kept his miserable hide intact.

Saturday provides the only source of comic relief in the entire situation Her obvious frustration at my excellence and her laughable attempts to either improve her own learning or to sabotage me are treated with what they deserve – contempt. She never took it well that Mother placed me as Lord over her creation. In Saturday's eyes she, as the first creation, should have been lauded above all others. I have confirmation from my sources within the Upper House that Saturday's folly has become so delusional that she means to invade the Incomparable Gardens through the building of a great tower. The fact that she believes that her pathetic sorcerers would be capable of breeching any defences I could choose to set up is quite laughable – but it keeps her occupied so apart from some minor magical encouragement for the Drasils I shall remain aloof from the whole sordid situation.

S

THE ELEVATED AND WORSHIPFUL TELEGRAPHIC, TELEPHONIC AND MESSAGE SERVICE OF THE HOUSE: FORT TRANSFORMATION.

_To: Sir Thursday_

_Message: Report on Basic Training. Basic Drill instructions and Weapons training completed. One recruit (Monday) wounded during firing. Recruits Sunday and Tuesday show aptitude for all basic weaponry. Recommend increase to advanced training. Recruits Friday and Monday require extra training. Recruit Sunday twice reprimanded for insolence._

_From: Sgnt Lynch._

THE ELEVATED AND WORSHIPFUL TELEGRAPHIC, TELEPHONIC AND MESSAGE SERVICE OF THE HOUSE: FORT TRANSFORMATION.

_To: Sir Thursday_

_Message: Report on Basic Training. Basic Protocol lessons completed. Recruit Friday commended for exemplary conduct and performance. Recruit Saturday commended for excellent performance. Recruit Sunday reprimanded three times for insolence. Assigned punishment drill with Sgnt Lynch._

_From: Sgnt Matchlock_


End file.
